The Bright And Shiny Spring Sprung Blues: Parents, Kids, And SpringtimeSerge Bielanko
We’ve got light now, real light, the kind from the sun, and it’s hanging around. We can go out in the yard after dinner if we want and stand by the creek and throw rocks in the rushing water.
We won’t have to worry about running out of time anymore. There will be plenty of day left to get the job done.
We keep standing up under the oak in the yard.
I keep wandering over there with you while the dogs bolt around with their long pink tongues hanging out and we keep looking up at the branches. They’re the same branches that were there just two weeks ago, when the wind was fierce and the night was blacker and colder.
Now though, we are watching them closely.
Back then the promise they held was still fast asleep.
But now/today, as some sun filters down through twenty thousand jagged limbs and plays with shadows getting born in the late afternoon, we are feeling this odd slight return to something older than both of us.
Robins are cliche, of course. Daddy knows that.
But, they are cliches because they are true.
And guess what, kid? There’s one over there! Right there! By where the fire pit is!
Now we know, huh?
Now we know that, once more, it is okay for us to believe in everything again. One more it is just fine for us to let out that long tired breath we’ve been sucking back behind our puffed out cheeks/keeping down in our exhausted lungs.
Come outside, we start telling each other.
Let’s get out there! Now!
Let’s tumble out the back screen door together, all of us together, just as our black-iced hearts are getting lifted up out of this wooden barrel of pickled living.
Lets get shoved back into the light, back out into the unstoppable magic, kid.
Let’s me and you get swept up and washed out into the rolling green ocean of endless living days.
I don’t care if we get stung doing it either. I don’t care if we get burnt a little by the sky or stuck by briers or chased by bees who feel the same way that we feel: so electrified/and amplified/and so satisfied that nothing’s died/it was only sleeping/sleeping/sleeping.
The thought of spring is almost better than when spring gets here, kid.
Not quite, but almost.
Just knowing that there will come again what seemed would never come again is enough. But knowing it will come so soon, and stay so long, is like being given back our wings, all crumpled up and musty but crinkling with promise as we tie them back on again . You and I standing out by the mountain stream rushing over the rocks, watching a water bug flit his way across a fat calm pocket: we both can feel it down behind our bones now.
Nothing can stop the onslaught of life coming our way.
Nothing can stop the green grass and flowers from ramming up through the dirt where we stand.
Nothing can stop these birds about be born.
Nothing can stop the feelings that we will certainly feel after such a long steady run through the grey.
So, grab whatever you think you need, though you won’t need much. Grab you baseball glove and your butterfly net. Grab your fishing pole and your kite. Grab your shade trees books and your jar of peanut butter and a handful of cookies and your magnifying glass and the big jar and whatever else you want, and let’s boogie.
We’re going outside, kid.
We’re heading outside.